Anchors
by fallenregent
Summary: ' you said you were not afraid of anything. ' eyebrows furrowed as he spoke to her, not mocking but a general curiosity. ' to be completely honest, Elijah. i'm afraid of everything. myself included. ' Elijah Mikaelson finds himself back in New Orleans when his brother finds out there is a coven of wit
1. Chapter 1

_Vieux Carré_ , the French Quarter. People traveled far and wide to experience the festivities that had been brought to life by the people of New Orleans. Haunting tales of witches, vampires and werewolves keeping tourists on their toes, but also wishing to know more of the culture, wanting to hear about the things that go bump in the night, thinking they have been created as tourist traps, that the things that are in myth and legend were only that. Stories made up to keep your kids in bed at night, but only for the humans who didn't know any better.

The streets of New Orleans during the day had been laid back and relaxed, people resting up from the night before, or in preparations for their next night of partying, the sound of a saxophone lazily playing something eerie in the background around the abandoned church on Esplanade Ave, the tune traveling down the streets, into open windows of shaded balconies and into the seemingly abandoned attic of Saint Anne's Church. Of the place where worship was once taken seriously, now blood stained the walls and a curse seemed to kiss whoever had walked within the walls. A rumor of a demon wandering the pews, of Sean O'Connell having wished to take more to where he had gone when he had lost himself. When his family had lost him completely.

Demons plagued every corner of Vieux Carré, not in the shape or form of spirits but in the shape of mystical beings, a war going on when nobody was looking, humans drinking and living up the tourist life while not even the locals noticed there was something lingering in the shadows. Witches, Werewolves and vampires, and there was a time when the witches and wolves had lived accordingly, when Vivianne had wandered the streets, but with her allegiance having depleted due to her death, the wolves were banished, and the vampires were in charge, witches held hostage by their magic by the King of the Quarter, Marcel Gerard. His secret of holding the Quarter in the palm of his hand having resided in the attic of the abandoned church, his greatest strength, his greatest weakness and his most dangerous weapon.

 _Davina Claire_

Davina Claire had been someone who was loved by the community, having shared her love for classical music, how she had played piano in lounges before, how she had so deeply believed that the magic in the city had been something to be honored. Something to be loved, it being something so pure and such a blessing to have such a beauty run through your veins. Life wasn't always easy, wasn't always something that she would wander the streets, singing of songs of how it was, but it was something that she had survived and she wasn't going to allow the secrets, the darkness to cloud it. Nineteen years old and a French Quarter witch, a beautiful blessing that had brandished her family for many generations, the Claire witches having always brought honor to the nine covens, which is why her mother had believed she had been chosen for the Harvest. for the ceremony done every three hundred years to replenish the magic that the ancestors had depleted by putting four girls to sleep, allowing their magic to soak into the ground and they would awaken not long after with magic in their veins and being crowned a hero to the witches.

But life wasn't a fairytale, and Davina Claire wasn't a hero. Now she was a victim, being hunted by her own coven after refusing the sacrificial ceremony that she had been subjected to, having been rescued in her time of need by the King of the Quarter, Marcel. Now she resides in the attic of Saint Anne's church, the magic from the other three Harvest Girls having bottled up inside of her, more magic than she could handle having been trapped under paper thin skin, but having enough magic to feel when any of it had been used within the city boundaries, making her the best weapon against the witches, the ones who had wished for her to follow in her friends steps. To be sacrificed with no guarantee or promise to be resurrected.

Many years ago the city was run by the Mikaelsons, the original vampires that had settled in the French Quarter in the 18th century, having built the city from the ground up, having created peace among the wolves, the witches and the vampires with the help of Vivianne who had once been married to Niklaus Mikaelson, the Hybrid. Their rule had been one to remember, having hosted the finest parties in the abattoir, having been the wealthy and most successful family to have walked the streets. But in 1919, with the burning of the opera house, the Mikaelsons had fled the city to never be heard of again, leaving behind Marcel Gerard, having believed he was dead.

Nobody expected them to return, having lost everything they had built they had no desire to return until the Hybrid had heard rumors that the witches were plotting against him, which had led Niklaus Mikaelson to the city, with his brother, the _Noble One,_ Elijah Mikaelson in his trail. Rumors that the witches were going to use their own secret weapon against him had forced them out of hiding, and brought the two to the city that they had once owned, learning that not only was a crescent werewolf with Niklaus' child, but the one they had believed dead had now taken their place as the ruler of the Quarter. The 'M's that had been painted along the city having lost the meaning of Mikaelson and had earned the title of Marcel, having given life and new breath to the city.

Marcel had learned of their return to the city, having known of the death and destruction that had lay in their wake and wanted to keep what he had, wanted to keep it sacred and protected, so his first mission was Davina. Not wanting the Mikaelsons to learn of her, her power and her role with the witches, knowing that if someone they had once considered family held a witch at his fingertips, they would use her in every way possible to extort the truth. The truth that not even Davina Claire had known.

He made his way to the church, having walked the pews, the silence of the church having haunted him but never scared him from the sight for he was a monster himself, and he didn't fear much, he feared death & he feared losing, but the demons that had plagued this place were nothing to him. Determined footsteps had lead him to the top of the stairs, a soft amber glow seeping from under the door before he had pulled it open, slowly. His eyes had to adjust to the glow of the candles, the soft sound of music that had played but not loud enough for humans to hear if they had been passing by. The room was filled with paintings, drawings, of someone who had adored art and on the floor there lay a coffin, a bold M having been placed on it, having instructed Davina to learn how to kill one of the Originals.

Davina had been standing over the coffin for a few minutes, inspecting, trying to understand what it had meant to be an original vampire, having tried to get answers out of Marcel but never getting more out of him other than they were dangerous. That they were not people that you wanted to get into bad habits with, but never anything other than that, and that a normal stake to the heart didn't kill them. No, it had to be specific and it had to be quick. The dagger had settled in her hands as Marcel had walked in, a smile on her lips as she stuck the dagger back into the chest of the male who had laid in the coffin below her, a eyes fixated on the hole in his suit where the dagger had once been placed, finger brushing over the fabric before moving to stand, dress brushing over her thighs as she moved to the male in front of her.

' I haven't found anything out yet, Marcel. None of the books I have say anything about the dagger that had put him down, and they say nothing of how the Old Ones were even created. '

she spoke softly, determined and almost as if she would be heard by someone, her fear having been of anything outside that door, and she had been face to face with death itself, but she had no control over her magic, over who she is and what she could do. and the fear that she would hurt someone had coursed through her body completely, leaving her stunned, shocked at times. How she had managed to even cause the entire french quarter to shake when emotions had been too overwhelming.

' I will do what i can to get my hands on more books for you. ' he spoke reassuringly, his hand moving to her shoulder before squeezing softly, a sigh escaping parted lips as he looked down at her. ' listen, D, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. ' gaze was fixed on her as she shook her head, her own having shook with a clear indication that she wasn't going to give up on him. He saved her, now it was her turn to save him.

' I want to do this, you say they are dangerous so I want them gone. If they will not leave the French Quarter, we will have to get rid of them ourself. ' lips pulled into a devilish smile as he nodded his head, a look of relief flashing across his features as he squeezed her shoulder once more and pulled away. ' Look, be careful. I will get you whatever you need, and you keep this one safe. Don't let anyone who isn't me in here. ' With that he had left the room, leaving her to inspect the body again, to go over the dagger and to study the design but sleep had pulled at her every nerve ending, and she could tell that it was the magic that had flooded her body, but she didn't know how to stop what it was doing to her. So she slept, petite form curled up on the bed in the corner of the room and sleep was not easy to come by.

Something had pulled her awake, sweat beaded her forehead, breathing hitched as her eyes had scanned the room with the fear that someone had been watching her. That there was something that wasn't supposed to be in the room had been lurking in the shadow and her gaze had caught something. The glimmer of the dagger, having been placed on a table near the coffin and fear moved through her but also pushed her towards the box as she pulled the lid open. Her body went rigid as it had now been empty, the male who had occupied the box and had been sedated in a sense was gone. Fingers ran frustratedly through her hair as she tried to think of what to do, tears burning her eyes as she sat on the floor, other hand curled around the edge of the box, a frustrated groan slipping through parted lips.

' It seems that someone had not informed you of how the dagger worked. ' a voice had sounded from the corner of the room, cerulean moving to follow the voice, unsure of where it had come from, but the vessel coming into the light, the way his suit had hanged on him, the curve of his throat, the swell of his lips and the sharpness of his jawline. Something that had been so lifeless in the box had been put to life and she had to remind herself that he was the enemy and that no matter how beautiful, how handsome he was that he wasn't the good guy. As religion had told, Lucifer was once an angel.

' Once you removed it the first time, the effects of it had wore of. ' he spoke, his enunciation precise, perfect as if it was scripted, poised in such a way that he could say something entirely boring and it would sound elegant. A single hand had pushed back the fabric of his jacket, fingers tugging at his pants before he had sat down at a seat in front of her, next to the coffin with the dagger next to him. Her breathing was hitched, but not for a moment did her gaze falter from him, ready to defend herself in a moments notice. ' I will not hurt you . ' he spoke, an unamused laugh having filled the air between them.

' i'm _Elijah Mikaelson_. '

( A.N. The point of this first chapter is to be an introduction. There will be more interactions between characters in upcoming chapters. thanks for reading xoxo )


	2. Chapter 2

_Elijah Mikaelson_

 _' I'm Davina Claire. '_

Oh she had heard plenty of the male who had now been sat before her, the male who had so gracefully had made it aware that he wasn't at her disposal to be poked and prodded and to be used as an experiment for whatever they had planned. Her gaze remained locked on him, lips forming into an 'o' shape before pressing together tightly and slowly moving to her feet. She didn't care in this moment that she had been in pajamas, that she wasn't exactly the most presentable for company, but she had found herself wanting to reach out and to touch the marks that ran along his face. The same marks she had seen on vampires who had died, but here he was, a living resemblance of the death after being undead and he still walked.

' how are you alive? '

her own words had surprised her as she had hoped to hold more composure and to be able to hold her ground, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she couldn't help but wonder if this is what they meant when curiosity had killed the cat. But she had wanted to know, she had wanted to know that even with a dagger to the heart that he had still walked the earth as if he hadn't been touched by the thing that would kill any other of his counterparts that were not his family.

a smirk played against his lips as he looked down at his hands and then over at the dagger on the table and she had followed his gaze, lingering on the dagger before meeting his gaze once more. everything in him had to control moving forward, the way his fangs had constantly protruded and retracted, how he had craved blood more than anything he could possibly want. but Elijah was more than a monster, but he wasn't what he had once swore he wouldn't ever turn into again. he wasn't going to rip into the flesh of the female in front of him, but he wouldn't leave without assessing the situation, he wouldn't leave without knowing who she was and how she had acquired the magic she had.

' My family wasn't created the same way your dear Marcellus was. We are known as a special kind of monster. '

his tongue had darted out to lick at dry lips, clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat, once again every movement fluid and almost pre-planned. as if every motion he made, whether it be the movement of his finger or the way his jacket had clung to him was already decided beforehand, that he had been calculated in a sense that he would always be a step ahead. But he had been placed in that box, he had the dagger in his heart. So while she had felt like he might always be a step ahead of her, it seems as if his weakness lay with his family. His weakness had left him a few steps behind when it came to them.

She could tell that he was hungry, that the veins in his body had thrummed with the want to sink his teeth into her neck, to take every drop he could manage that would satiate his thirst, but he still held back, he still managed to keep collected and calculated even when hunger burned his throat. ' you're hungry. ' she had pushed off everything he had said about how he was created, her focus now on the way his gaze flicked between her throat and her eyes, a gentle curve of her lips a silent treaty in this moment as she reached for a knife, one she used to sharpen the tools she drew with. ' you need to feed. '

her hand moved to cut at her hand, willing to offer him her own blood, but before the blade could touch her own ivory kissed skin, his fingers had wrapped delicately around hers, catching hold of the blade to make sure not to mark her. ' no, even in this current condition, i will not feed from a child. ' the look on his face was sincere, but also thankful that she had offered to help him but he did not want to harm a child to ease his hunger, him willing to feel the longing, the burning for as long as he needed. Even if she was a threat to him, to his family, he would not spill the blood of a child.

' not so much a child anymore, Elijah Mikaelson. '

she hummed in response as she dropped the knife on the table and reached for a needle, pricking the tip of her finger with it with a wince. the needle had the remnants of blood that she had drawn, having moved it towards him, feeling his featherlight grasp grace the skin of her wrist, she had watched as he had willingly taken the single drop into his mouth, watching as the thirst had dissolved from him completely. ' you didn't need much. ' she spoke, his grasp not moving from her wrist, but staring at her in complete awe, wondering how someone had the ability to satiate his thirst with a single drop of blood.

Elijah had moved to stand up, finally dropping her wrist after realizing he had been holding onto it a little too long, but she hadn't allowed her thoughts to get too wrapped up in it. Not thinking about how even though he was dead, undead, immortal, there was still a warmth that had laid under the skin that covered him. That there might be something human underneath it all, but from what she had heard from Marcel, it seemed like all humanity had escaped the Old Ones when they had realized that they were indestructible, that they were to live forever.

' How is it that someone with your amount of power is locked away in a tower? What is it that you are afraid of ? '

The question caught her off guard and she had found herself swallowing hard, looking down at her feet for a moment, fingers grasping her opposite arm as she inhaled sharply, licking at her lips. _what are you afraid of? everything._ She was afraid of everything, death, the witches, the magic that had been harvested within her body. She was afraid of the pain that would be inflicted upon her and the pain she could inflict onto the other people and she had felt that maybe it would be best if she had stayed locked up in the attic.

' nothing. '

the words sounded foreign to her, as if they were not her own but they were. the words seemed to be laced in something that she couldn't explain, but something that she had been longing to hold in, especially around the male who had now stood up, hands moving to his hips to fix his pants, now to his tie before he had moved to her canvas, fingers moving over the dark lines that had been pressed hard into the paper. ' i am afraid of nothing. '

 _everything._

he couldn't help but grimace when he had heard her speak, knowing that what she had held deep within her chest was fear, what it was was the fear of not being accepted, but not belonging anywhere because she had felt too foreign for the places she had once called home. That feeling had once been routed deep within him, when he had fled from home, from his father, from the place where he had loved and laughed and where he had first killed when he had become what he was. From the first day he was a monster, and he could understand feeling foreign in your own skin, but he had become something that would not ever fit anywhere except for in a grave. but even then, his kind of monster didn't die,

 _so where did he belong exactly ?_

' you fear the unknowing. ' he spoke softly, his gaze ripping from the canvas, his own thoughts tucked back within him as he tried to pull from his own life story and focus back on the female who had been settled on the bed before him. a smile slips to his lips as he moved over to her, slowly as to not scare her, no sign of intimidation against her in this moment, merely speculating the surrounding area, the female who was so small compared to him, to someone who had held more power than his own mother had been capable of wielding.

' maybe i'm asking the wrong questions. how is it that you allow Marcel to dictate what you do, that you are stuck in this ... _attic_ ? '

he enunciated the last word with a tick at the end, head canted to the side as he moved to place the chair over towards her more, once again pushing back his jacket to sit down, watching her carefully. and the way he had looked at her had her wondering if he could see right through her, as if he would read her mind and she wondered if that was one of the abilities the original family had, but it was only compulsion and even then, they couldn't compel her. she wanted to lie, to shut him out but he had been right in that sense. that she had been held up in the attic, unsure that if she had told him that she wanted to leave, that he would allow her. but he saved her life and for that she felt like she owed him.

' i didn't always have all this power , and before i did ... he _saved me_ . '

Elijah wasn't expecting the words she had said to come out, but at the same time it didn't surprise him much either. Marcel would have given Klaus anything he had wanted when he had saved him from the plantation, when he had removed him from his biological father. So there was an understanding on the girls devotion to Marcel. How she had felt compelled in a sense to stand by his side even if it had meant that she were to bend and twist to his command.

' What _happened_ to you, Davina Claire? '

the question had rocked her, unsure of how to start, if she were to blame her father leaving that had turned her mother into the person she had once been. if she should blame her mother for being as strict and unloving as she was, or if she should blame herself for being so foolish to believe that the Harvest Festival was as innocent as they had played it off as. If she should blame her friends being slaughtered on her inability to realize the truth, but even then she wouldn't have known. No, the blame rested with the deceased Elders, the ancestors that had wished for the magic that had resided within her.

' The Harvest Festival. '

( A.N. I know it follows canon in a sense, but it will be a loose following of it, some incidents happening, but there will be obvious differences ! thanks for reading xoxo )


	3. Chapter 3

The Harvest , a ritual that the covens of New Orleans had partaken in during many different centuries, but there was never anything that had recorded it, just myths and legends that had been passed down from generation. A story that Davina had been taught when she was younger, something that she thought was a blessing before she had been cursed to hold the title of _Harvest Girl_.

' the Harvest was supposed to be a ritual performed by the coven, a replenishment of magic to the ancestors. '

the words slipped out easily, the sound of betrayal evident in her tone for she wasn't sure how else to sound about it, how they had played her up to be some kind of princess, a hero, a warrior. But had brought her down to some kind of victim, a _sacrifice_. They were just kids, just witches who had believed that they were doing something good, but had soon realized that their naivety had gotten the best of them. That it was too good to be true that they would be placed into a peaceful slumber to be awakened. It was then that Davina had learned that most of what she had learned, most of what she had been taught was a lie.

' and this ritual, what had to happen in it? '

the male had asked carefully, his eyes trained on her as she attempted to gather herself, the room seemed to rattle slightly when she had talked about the Harvest, his hand moving to gently place over hers in an attempt to calm her down, but the room still continued to shake under them. ' you don't have to answer, but i do wish to know about the harvest when you are able to do so. ' and with his words she had shook her head no, chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to regain her composure, squaring her shoulders and pulling away from his touch to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

' the four chosen ones, we had been told a story about how we would be put to sleep by a simple cut on our palm. That we would sleep as the magic moved from us, into the ground and back into our bodies. How we would be seen as some of the best and most prestigious witches in the Nine Covens. But they didn't tell us _everything_. '

the male had continued to look at her, to gauge her reaction while telling the story in hope to finding any kind of lie in her story, but it had seemed all too sincere. that the struggles she had already gone through were ones that he wouldn't wish on anyone. To have their lives completely dictated by someone they had looked up to. How Esther had done the same to him and his siblings. he had stood up from the chair that he had been settled in, moving around it in hopes of easing himself, in the hopes of not allowing his composure to crack under the realization that the witches of New Orleans would happily sacrifice children. Whether it was to put them to sleep, or to slaughter them.

They were just children.

' did anyone speak out about the harvest ? ' Elijah asked with obvious curiosity and disdain, gaze falling upon the female, noticing the sadness that had lingered in her features as she spoke and in that moment he had realized that she had lost more than she was letting on. ' Moniques aunt didn't think the Harvest was real . ' Davina spoke with a sadness that was palpable, something that he had noticed, but it had dawned on him that maybe it wasn't just her innocence that was lost, but maybe something more. His movements were fluid as he had moved to sit on the edge of her bed, his gaze not faltering from her, this time easing up on observing her. A sense of empathy having surged through him for her.

' Sophie Devereux. She is a witch in the Quarter, she tried to stop it and didn't succeed. ' she didn't want to get into more detail about the harvest festival, feeling the tears starting to burn the back of her eyes, wanting to erase the memories from her mind and to go back to being that naive little girl who had believed that the coven she had been born into had higher moral standings. that they would see that they weren't old enough to go through this for their lives had just started and they were without blinking moving to remove their lives for their own magical gain.

' the ritual had started, the first girl went up and - ' davina swallowed hard as she ran trembling fingers through brunette tresses, watching the male through blurred vision, burning hot tears streaming down her cheeks in this moment, hating the weakness she had felt. ' they had no good intentions for us. They.. they planned to slaughter us, to slit our throats and my own mother hadn't even flinched, didn't even try to save me. '

the words cracked as they slipped out, unable to get through how much it had hurt when her mother had turned her back on her daughter being brought up for the kill, seeing that she had cared more about the coven than her own daughters life and that is the moment when she had realized she was really alone. that was the moment that she had found herself lost, abandoned, _broken_.

' Marcel saved me , he got there in time to save me and hid me in this attic. I owe him everything. I'm not ready to die. '

Her words reverberated through him with a sort of sorrow, a guilt that someone would do that to anyone, but then again he had felt the same sting from his own mother. Her having gone through with turning them into what they were, taking their lives and making them into monsters and he had understood her pain, her sorrow and her inability to feel like she was whole anymore. He had many lifetimes to get through the pain and become aware of who he was and what he had to live with, but she was only nineteen years old and had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

' and the witches want to find you to complete the ritual . what happens if they don't complete it ? '

he didn't want to ask, he didn't want to hear the answer to the question he had asked, but he had to know, he had to know if there was an end where they would stop hunting the petite witch that had hid in the attic as if her life had depended on it. and from the story she had told, it did depend on it, her entire existence was at risk because the witches had wanted the power that had coursed through her veins and they wouldn't stop until they had it.

' The Reaping . '

the words were enough to make Elijah shift uncomfortably on the bed and the way he had moved was the first time that Davina had seen him move in a way that didn't seem preplanned or calculated. How even she seemed to cause him to be unsure of the things that had happened in this city, of the witches blood that had stained Lafayette Cemetery. She had believed that the witches were the good guys and that every other being was to be hated, to be feared and fought but she hadn't realized that the real enemy had shared her blood, who had slept in the same house as her, who had cast spells alongside her.

' If I am not sacrificed, the reaping will happen and all the magic will drain from the witches. I can finally be normal. '

' and is normal what you wish to be, Davina Claire ? ' he questions as he stands up again , moving to the record player that had stopped playing, methodically fiddling with the needle before placing it on the record, hearing Mozart hum lazily through the amber infused attic that the witch had resided in. his curiosity had spiked with the female who had been on the bed, a sort of wish to protect her bubbling towards the surface, wishing to keep her safe and not only from the witches, but from Marcel and being used as a tool in the war that was brewing.

' I don't want to be this. I hurt people, I break everything I touch. If the magic is gone, I cannot hurt anyone. '

she spoke with a sigh, pulling her knees to her chest as she rest her chin on her knees, her gaze having kept on the canvas that she had been drawing on the day prior before Marcel had visited her with the update on Elijahs body. Elijah opened her mouth to respond, to tell her that her magic if controlled correctly wouldn't hurt anyone unless she had wanted, he wanted to offer her help, but the sound of the church doors opening had him looking at her with a soft smile.

' Davina Claire, I wish to help you. Not only against those who wish to harm you, but those who wish to use you as a weapon. I want to help you control your powers and keep you safe. Marcel is coming, you can tell him about this encounter or you can keep quiet and we can continue this conversation later. '

His words had her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she listened to him, wanting to believe him but in this moment she wasn't sure who she could believe. But then he was gone, hidden in the shadows and before she could break her thoughts of where the male had disappeared to, the knob of the door was turning. Cerulean hues moved over to the table where the dagger had laid and she had moved to pick it up quickly, sticking it under her pillow in the hopes of concealing it, placing herself at her canvas, pretending that she had been focusing on her work instead of the alternative of speaking to the male who had wished to save her. the male who should have been settled within the box.

' hey D, I found some books for you . '

Marcel spoke with a grin as if he was proud of himself, placing the books on the table where the dagger had once laid, thankful that she had moved it, but still in that same thought she wasn't sure if she should tell him about her conversation with the Mikaelson. Swallowing hard she had watched as he had moved to the coffin, about to lift the lid. Panic rose up her throat as she dropped her charcoal and called out to him to not touch it, stammering slightly at first before regaining composure.

' N-No , Do-Don't do that! ' She cleared her throat. ' I am working on something, if you touch it i'll have to start over again . '

part of her wondered why she had protected him, but she had wanted to know more, wanted to believe that maybe he could help her since it seemed as if she was locked up in the attic with nothing but being told to sense if someone was using magic. She wasn't sure what her use was, or what she had been to Marcel, but she had wanted to be more than just an object for people to use at their disposal.

' Have you felt anything ? Anyone using magic in the quarter? ' she shook her head as to reply to his question, moving back to draw on the canvas, smiling at him when she had felt like he was a little too curious on what she had been thinking about. He moved languidly over to her, his arm resting on top of the canvas as he took in her expression, looking over her for some kind of silent explanation of what was going on. ' The spell i am working on just took a lot out of me. I am going to nap soon and hope it wears off soon. Don't worry about me. '

' I will always worry about you, D. '

and with that he had smiled at her, promising to stop by later after she had slept to check in on the original, wanting to see what she had cooked up with him. and when the door had closed, she had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, letting out a deep breath of air, leaning back against the bed as she tried to regain her thought process, wanting to know what she was to do in that moment that she had betrayed the person she had owed everything to for someone she didn't know, for someone she had only heard things based on legends about.

' you kept me a secret , why? '

his words were soft, but they were also laced with surprise, unsure why she hadn't told Marcel that he was awake, but he had to believe that maybe he had grabbed her interest with his offering to help her. eyes followed his moments for a moment, thinking about her next step before she had sat up and moved to drag the dagger from under the pillow. it had felt heavy in her hands, inspecting it before handing it over to him carefully as to not cut herself.

' I don't know what i'm doing here, but I know that I don't want to be afraid of everything in this city. '

finally admitting that she had feared the things that had walked the streets of New Orleans, the witches, the vampires, the wolves, even if they had been banned from the Quarter. that every moment she had been left to think about her life, about how she had been on the run and hiding, she had realized that she had been afraid of pretty much everything.

' you said you were not afraid of anything. ' eyebrows furrowed as he spoke to her, not mocking but a general curiosity.

' to be completely honest, Elijah. i'm afraid of everything. myself included. '


End file.
